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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794128">kind of rude to move in without asking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerivous/pseuds/Kerivous'>Kerivous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Everyone but Gordon is dead, Gen, Gordon's taking online classes for college don't worry, He left because of..reasons but its fine!, Hurt/Comfort, Mature for canon typical swearing and violence, Shipping is always a maybe but it depends on if I get there or not, but also some of them didn't die very peacefully, ghost au, hurt/comfort because they are Ghosts theyre gonna remember some stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:00:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerivous/pseuds/Kerivous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon Freeman has always wanted to move into his own house. </p><p>He has also never believed in ghosts.</p><p>Just like buying his first house, there is a first time for everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey &amp; Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Everyone &amp; Everyone, Tommy Coolatta &amp; Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Move-in day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon inhaled deeply as he used his foot to knock the front door shut, fumbling with the cardboard box in his hands. The air was...well, it wasn't fresh by any means. It, honestly, straight up smelled like spiders in here. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Not very nice.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Was it a bad idea to buy such an old house? Maybe. Did he regret it? Perhaps. Was he going to give up? Absolutely fucking not. He'd gone through way too fucking much to even get the contractor to consider selling this place to him. He had to promise the guy that'd he move in safely , for fucks sake! It was a hell of an ordeal, and Gordon's pretty sure that being warned when buying a house isn't something that's very commonplace either. Or maybe it is, fuck if he knows.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Now, a bit of background, Gordon Freeman is in no way a believer of the paranormal. Of course he's heard unexplained bumps in the night, felt chills crawl up his spine when entering a dim room, but who hasn't? Everyone's got some kind of ghost story, something they consider to be absolute proof of the paranormal, something that's convinced them of a life after death. It's a pretty normal concept, actually, and Gordon accepts that! He just personally doesn't really care. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He's a physicist, he's got real life forces to look into.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Standing in this entryway, sunlight filtering in through the windows and pointing out the sheer amount of dust in here, Gordon can get why the contractor would be superstitious. This house is a carbon copy of every haunted house in every scary ghost movie he's ever seen. So much so that he wouldn't be surprised if a bloody apparition popped up right in front of him, actually.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Finally, he breaks the dust-filled silence.</p><p> </p><p>"...This place needs some serious fucking cleaning."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Leaving his spot by the door before he begins to accumulate dust too, he moves to set the box in his hands down in a room adjacent to the front hallway, by the cheap couch he'd hauled in earlier. He rested his hands on his hips, taking a moment to observe what he designated as the living room before resigning himself to work on organizing all of this junk. He's started, and now he's got a hell of a lot to finish.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Gordon's not a particularly speedy cleaner or anything, but he gets the job done at a decent pace. Trudging from room to room, distributing different boxes and disassembled pieces of furniture, he's beginning to think this is actually a pretty welcoming house. In the original tour he did, the whole place seemed...cold. Cold and pretty unwelcoming, actually. Had it not been for his eagerness to actually own a place of his own, he probably would've said "yeah, no" and moved on as soon as he had set foot in. But after getting some clutter in the place to make it feel more like, well, an actual home, he's starting to see why people would have lived here. It just has that feel, y'know?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Wiping sweat from his forehead with a rag he'd stolen from his tiny box of towels, he slowly looked around the room he had claimed as his bedroom. It was decent sized, a couple of windows that let in a wonderful amount of sunlight along one wall and a pretty good spot for a bed in the corner. He had chosen this room mostly due to the fact that it was the only one that had electrical sockets in a sensible place. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He let out a small sigh of contentment at his progress before continuing on, determined to get his bed set up before the sun went down. He did<em> not</em> want to sleep on the couch. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Humming softly to himself, Gordon worked quietly at unpacking his sheets.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>As the sun dipped behind the horizon, Gordon struggled to his feet from where he was sitting with a huff. He’d made quite a bit of progress on getting most of the big stuff and a good chunk of the little stuff out of boxes and out of the way. What was left was mostly just decorations, such as framed photos and other knick-knacks he’d picked up over time. He’d already decided to deal with those tomorrow. </p><p> </p><p>Raising his arms above his head, and after cracking a few vertebrae in the process, he set out for the kitchen to see what he could scrounge up from whatever he brought with him. Gordon wasn’t really a chef in any way, but he knew enough from trial and error to make something that was at least a little filling. Maybe it’d even be something nutritious. </p><p> </p><p>As he stepped down the creaky wooden steps leading to the main entryway, he shivered lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it got cold quick. I’m gonna have to remember to keep a sweater nearby or somethin’”</p><p> </p><p>He muttered the sentence mostly to himself. He figured the sun going down must’ve let the house cool down enough to allow the bottom floor rooms to get this cold. It’s something he’s experienced in other buildings before. That would also explain the faint humid smell. Maybe it’s just because this place is so old. More importantly than that train of thought, he really wishes he had actually put on a pair of socks before heading down here. He <em>could</em> just go back up and put some one, but the only thing holding him back was just pure tiredness. Cold floors never hurt anyone.</p><p> </p><p>Picking his way through empty and half-full boxes alike, and just narrowly avoiding stepping on a picture frame he set on the ground earlier in the day, he finally finds his way into the kitchen and reaches around to flick the ceiling light on. Holy fuck, here he was thinking the wood floors were cold. The tile in this room is practically ice, and Gordon finds himself trying not to physically jump away. It’s just cold tile, not hot coals. He takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for walking on these hell squares, as all of us have at some point, before taking the plunge and just trekking in.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’ll be worth it in the long run. Maybe it’ll warm up when I start cooking? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pointedly ignoring the tiles under his feet, he sorted through whatever canned goods and meager fresh produce he had. He could probably just make something simple, like pasta and sauce. Or maybe a simple soup? Soup sounded absolutely heavenly right now, so guess that’s the plan of action. Something simple and warm.</p><p> </p><p>He had already put most of the pots and pans away to keep the space clear, so all he needs to do is just pull out what he calls the “second to biggest pot”, fill that up with some water, throw that bad boy on the stove, drop a few bouillon cubes in, and bam! Gordon Freeman’s made himself some chicken noodle soup broth. He’s not going to go all out, of course. Just some canned carrots, chicken, and maybe a bit of the wilted celery he has. And of course, you can’t go wrong with some pre-packaged egg noodles. Maybe one day he’d try his hand at homemade noodles, but today is not that day.</p><p> </p><p>He hums a little tune that’s been stuck in his head all day as he waits for his broth to start boiling, resisting the urge to move his feet lest he lose his small spot of warmth he’s made on the evil ice tiles beneath him. He drums his fingers on the counter behind him to the silent beat of the song he’s humming, and he just barely picks up the faint and heavy smell of rain as he stands. It’s not very noticeable considering the bubbling pot of soup next to him, but it’s there. He glances at the pot, checking on it to make sure it won’t bubble over, before stepping out into the living room and inhaling deeply. </p><p> </p><p>Yep, that’s rain alright.</p><p> </p><p>He stands for a few moments just taking it in. If it’s raining, that would explain why the house got so cold in such a short span of time. It may be spring, but that doesn’t mean freezing rain is out of the question out here. He nods silently to himself at this conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Just the rain.”</p><p> </p><p>He murmurs to the empty room.</p><p> </p><p>His attention is caught by the sound of his soup boiling over, and he rushes back over to the stove with a hissed exclamation of annoyance. As he works on getting the pot of soup to calm the fuck down, he doesn’t notice the faint shadow walking into the living room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After an uneventful dinner consisting of Gordon sitting at the kitchen table in silence, eating soup and scrolling through his phone, he’s more than ready to pass out at this point. Sometime while he was eating, he assumes the rain outside stopped much to his disappointment. He was really hoping that he’d have some sort of white noise to fall asleep to.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls back his sheets and blanket neatly, just so he doesn’t untuck them after going out of his way to make sure they’d stay put, climbing underneath them happily. They’re cool against his skin, but not uncomfortably so. Refreshingly cold, actually. He makes sure that his thicker, heavier blanket is secure one last time before laying on his side and closing his eyes with a content sigh.</p><p> </p><p>It does not take long for him to slip into a good sleep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> … </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Do you- Do you think he’s going to stick around?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The words are on the edge of Gordon’s awareness, barely registering. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I...don’t see why he, wouldn’t. He is not as...suspicious as the, last...tenant.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “That’s- Yeah, that’s true. The last guy was really, uh...really jumpy.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hmmm, indeed.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A part of his brain is sending off signals that something about this shouldn’t be happening, but the rest of his brain is too muddled with sleep to fully sink in yet. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As the whispering continues, Gordon gives a quiet noise of confusion as he shifts in his bed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The voices stop, and a faint heaviness he wasn't aware was there lifts.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A few more moments of sleep covered half-awareness, before Gordon falls back into his unconscious. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:]</p><p>aaaaa so i actually speedran writing this at 1 am last night because i was like "hng ghost au" and couldnt sleep. as you can tell, i poured a lot of what i thought were details into it.</p><p>for this fic i think im gonna do whatever, yknow? i like to write to convey really clear emotions, feelings and scenes and i also just,,,really like calm vibes rn</p><p>so uhhh stick around if you want to? we're both gonna see where this goes together, so lets have fun with it while we do! :]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Curious findings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gordon wakes up from his dreamless sleep with great effort.</p>
<p>Waking up is always an effort, honestly. He would love to just stay in bed and nap all day, being warmed by the sun passing through his window and scrolling infinitely through posts on the few social media apps he has. But today? He has some unpacking left to do.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon wakes up from his dreamless sleep with great effort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waking up is always an effort, honestly. He would love to just stay in bed and nap all day, being warmed by the sun passing through his window and scrolling infinitely through posts on the few social media apps he has. But today? He has some unpacking left to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Curse his past self, tapping out before the chore was done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Today, though, the house is not actually completely silent like it had been yesterday. As his ears start to wake up with his brain, he becomes aware of the soft, quiet drone of his...TV? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wh..?"</p>
<p>He murmurs, his mind not really providing a good explanation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he'd turned it on last night…? No, no, he would've remembered if he did. He had been pretty tired, but not <em> that </em> tired. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The gears in his head turned as he threw his blankets off himself and sat up, setting his feet on the chilled floor and yawning until his eyes teared up. Had he even set the TV up? He hadn't recalled doing that either, but he wouldn't put it past himself to sleepwalk plugging the TV in. Mumbling to himself, trying to piece the whole thing together with minimal success, as he pushed himself to his feet and made his sleepy trek to the living room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The floor creaked softly underneath him as he crept down the stairs, the sound of the TV growing as he shuffled closer to the living room’s entrance and peeked in quietly. It looked like whatever was on was about electronics, or video games at the very least considering the console the person on-screen was showing off. Gordon frowned. He was never one to watch these kinds of things, not in a while at least. Not sure if he’s even seen this show before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, as he fully steps into the empty living room, the TV shuts off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just...bam, it’s out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s...not supposed to happen.”<br/>Gordon’s voice seemed too loud in this sudden absence of noise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moments passed as silence filled the room easily, the muffled sounds of morning ambiance outside of the house being lost in the wake. Had Gordon been more superstitious or maybe even cared more, he might have even been on edge from just how <em> strange </em> this whole situation was. Maybe he would’ve had an ‘Oh fuck’ moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, despite this overwhelming evidence of the supernatural being present in Gordon Freeman’s home, he simply shrugged and walked into the kitchen, beginning to prepare something that could only be classified as breakfast due to it being the first meal of the day.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon couldn’t dwell on breakfast all day, of course. He’s still got that bit of stuff to put away around the house, so he’s eager to get that done and over with so he can get back to giving himself back problems over his laptop. It sounds way better than it does here, I promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The house’s still and quiet atmosphere is shifted into one of activity and noise as Gordon carries small items and pictures around, trying to find places that look presentable as a playlist of music softly fills the rooms. He may be a physicist, but that doesn’t mean he wants to sacrifice a livable space wholly for the pursuit of education. That’s why he has all of his science pun mugs on full display right at the front of the cabinet!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His physics teacher would be proud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he’s speed-walking down the upstairs hallway with a bowling ball in hand (which he had no idea he even had, or if it’s even his for that matter), he notices a small rope hanging from the ceiling. He suddenly remembers that yeah, real houses usually have attics in them, so this must be the entrance to said attic. Setting the bowling ball aside for a later time, he reaches up and tugs lightly at the rough cord taking a step back as the rickety ladder-stair combination unfolded towards the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s a lot of fucking dust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A bit of inspecting the newfound entrance is all he needs before heading on up, with minimal coughing. Poking his head into the attic space, he’s happily surprised to find that whoever had built this place decided to add a couple of windows on each side of the room. Weak sunlight filtered in, what was most likely decades of dust blocking most of it from getting through. The whole place smelled musty and, from the looks of the muted colors on the clothes and boxes, probably hadn’t been disturbed in a while. Abandoning his original plan and pulling himself all the way in, Gordon took a moment to just look around a bit. He could see a few more racks with jackets and shirts hanging on them, the clothing items riddled with holes, but most interesting to him was the few open boxes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Footsteps muted by the layer of grime on the floor, he walked over to the closest box and kneeled down to rifle through its contents. </p>
<p>There wasn’t too much of interest in it, now that he was digging inside. Pushing aside a few loose papers, Gordon carefully pulled a thick book out with the helpful word ‘Photos’ inscribed on the front. He ran his hand along the imprinted letters before opening the book, resisting the urge to blow the dust off of the page like some main character in a movie. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first photo was faded and off-color, displaying two men standing in front of a brightly colored SUV with an overly large dog standing at their side. Gordon huffed a small laugh as he studied the older man. Though he was a bit far away from the camera, Gordon could tell that he looked like he didn’t quite know how to take a photo, nor did he look like he seemed at ease. The smile on his face, though, seemed to prove that he was happy to be there. He tore his attention from the image and over to the photos on the adjacent page. Most seemed to be from when the three were moving in, being shots of the entryway and beautiful streaks of sunlight from various rooms. The last photo was of a blurry mass of yellow fur, the dark smudge of a nose and eyes being the only indicator that it was a dog at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he was about to flip the page, a small <em> whump! </em> drew his attention across the room. Placing the book softly back in its original spot, he stood and shuffled curiously over to the fallen object and the small cloud of dust it had kicked up. Getting a bit closer he realized that it was actually a small, ornate picture frame. It was a deep, rich brown in color and, as he scooped it up and flipped it over, it had to have been way older than the photo book he had found before. This picture was printed in blacks, warm grays, and off-whites, the age of it proven by the grainy quality and an overall formal feel to it. What did not look formal, however, were the two young men in suits beaming at the camera with wide, happy smiles. The taller of the two was being held in a bridal pose by the shorter one, who seemed to be having the time of his life while his partner looked to be lovingly annoyed, their matching smiles showing that both were too happy to have really minded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon cracked a small smile. The couple's smiles were infectious as he chuckled at the image. With warmth in his heart, he gently placed the frame to the side for the time being to go through whatever they may have left behind in the box the frame had fallen off of. </p>
<p>Pulling out small items and multiple loose photos, Gordon looked over each one with interest that surprised even himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Never thought I’d find digging through people’s things this interesting, but here we are…”</p>
<p>He murmured to himself and the heavy air softly, reaching for and studying a small piece of colored glass that vaguely looked like the shape of a flame. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The glass charm wasn’t made very well, shown with the awkward placement of some pieces, but he could tell it was made with love and care. Inscribed on the flat side of it, was a small ‘<em> B’ </em> just barely visible from what was probably years of wear. It was certainly a charming little find. </p>
<p>Another glint of light catching his eye, Gordon found a second glass charm of similar size almost hidden underneath a stack of papers. This one looked like it was shaped to imitate bubbles, with a bright shade of green and the way they seemed to be stacked on top of each other haphazardly. As he held them both in the same hand, he realized that the two formed a small heart when placed next to each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...That has gotta be the sappiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”</p>
<p>Hey, he’s got a soft spot for things like this, okay?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon turned the glass charms around in his hand idly as he put things back into the box properly, making sure they weren’t gonna be messed up in the long run. Might as well put the other box back together nicely, while he’s at it. Not sure if any of these people have any relatives around, but it would be respectful either way. Pocketing the charms, he shuffled back over to the first box he opened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tidied it all up a bit, his original plan of tidying his <em> own </em> stuff completely lost at this point. As he rummaged around, he pulled his hand back sharply with a quiet hiss of pain. Squinting through the dim and dusty light revealed the item that had stabbed him; a small, yellow earring shaped like a soda can. Shaking the pain from his hand first, he carefully picked it up. </p>
<p>The item was a bright yellow, and looked like it had also been hand made like the glass charms. If he squinted, he could make out what must've been writing at some point, but had been rendered unreadable from the paint flaking away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a few moments of silence, he deposited the earring in the same pocket as the charms. Why? He wasn't entirely sure. Something about them seemed different than the other things in their boxes of origin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He placed a final object back into its place before he stood, a faint <em> crack </em> of his bones finally stirring him back into the now. </p>
<p>He still had chores to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was definitely gonna come back up here, sometime. Even if he could technically count it as snooping, he couldn't help being curious about the lives of people who lived before him, especially those who lived in this same house. That's a lot of history, just hanging out up here.</p>
<p>He ran a hand along a short stack of boxes as he made his way back over to the ladder, taking extra care this time to not disturb anything else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a last glance at the dim attic, Gordon descended the ladder to continue on with his day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AAAA okay hi!! again!! so uh,,as soon as I posted this chapter school picked up and that pretty much swamped me,, but I've got this chapter done finally!!</p>
<p>im sorry if it seems more rushed and cluttered, i really wanted to show a lot of stuff in the attic scene but,,just didnt know how to make it flow??</p>
<p>but yeah!!! im gonna work on the next chapters whenever I can, and I hope you have a good day/night!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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